


Under Your Spell

by aphleser



Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire
Genre: Crushes, Dreaming, Experimentation, F/F, F/M, Infatuation, Love, Multishipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8083399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphleser/pseuds/aphleser
Summary: Elphaba Thropp has many in her thrall, many under her spell. Shall we explore those various smitten individuals? Yes, we shall. Four-shot. Fiyeraba, Gelphie, Elphaboq and Elpharic all included.





	1. Elphiyero

**Author's Note:**

> It could be said that our Elphaba has many in her thrall, and I wanted to explore the thoughts of these various admirers. I'm not sure how long this will be, but it will most likely fall into a four-shot; Fiyeraba, Gelphie, Elphaboq and Elpharic. If you enjoy one of those pairings, read for your favourite and if you feel open, stay for the others. Broaden your shipping horizons, sail new seas (if you'll pardon the awful pun). This story was inspired by Desire's ethereal and gorgeous song Under Your Spell. I do not own it, and no lyrics are included in my writing. Thank you, read, enjoy and review!

Entrancing. Enchanting. Intoxicating. Addictive.

All synonyms to describe one Elphaba Thropp. According to Fiyero Tigelaar, at the very least. No man had ever been quite as committed to a woman as he to her, and never would there be such a pairing.

Her allure was entirely her own, no gimmicks here. Her strange brand of beauty, curious but stunning nonetheless, called to him.

Unapologetically green skin, the rich colour of fresh-cut emeralds, intense brown eyes with swirling stardust trails of silver, like a far-off galaxy, unreadable and unreachable. A form seemingly knit from fire and Glikkun iron, hard and sharp, yet oxymoronically smooth and soft. Quick hands, quicker mind, and hair like midnight spun into silk, like the darkest of spider's webs.

Sultry yet awkward. Sexy yet gauche. Forbidding yet welcoming. A swirling bundle of contradictions made up Elphaba, and confused everyone else, including him.

Fiyero could never commit her to one type, as such. She could be this, but also that. Elements of some, qualities of others. She was just her, just Elphaba, and there would never be another quite like her.

Not because of her skin. Well, truthfully, that was a factor. But she was so much more than her unconventional hue. She had a mind, and a spirit, and a passion, and a sharp tongue that possessed unexpected skill, and not just in conversation.

She was a puzzle, a riddle wrapped in a conondrum, tied with a paradox as a decorative bow. She wanted solitude, yet clutched at Fiyero with desperate loneliness. She pushed him away, but still opened her arms to him. Cursed him almost every clock-circle, yet cried out his name in ecstasy in the throes of passion.

A peculiar girl. Woman, Fiyero corrects himself. She's a woman. She has experience, some kind of background. She knew where everything went, at least, and wanted it with a burning desire that threatened to consume herself, plus Fiyero. A girl implies innocence, purity. Elphaba had none of those qualities, but for an inexperience with love. Romantic love, that is. Not the perverse devotion she felt she owed her sister and brother, nor the reluctant obedience forced on her by her father and Nanny. Genuine, dizzying, passionate, lustful, wanting,  _true_  love, that made one mad with desire and insane with longing. Made one yearn for their loved one, their partner in crime. Made one hopelessly devoted to their mate.

Of course, she's restless. Never liked an idle life, despised sitting still, unless it was to read. Elphaba would ignore him for days on end in favour of a new, interesting book. Well, maybe not days. Two at the very most. Before she needed him again.

He seemed to need her every clock-tick of the day, every moment alone was time wasted, time that could be spent with her. but she was relatively self-sufficient. She could say goodbye with a sense of finality. Fiyero always meant his goodbyes as a 'see you soon'. He had developed a mortifying habit of lingering on her street, cloak covering his face and torso, somehow hoping he'd be called back.

But he loved her. Lurline, Preenella, Unnamed God even, any deity that was listening, help him, he loved her. And she loved him. Somehow, someway, Elphaba had made space in her crowded heart for Fiyero Tigelaar.


	2. Gelphie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we see Galinda's point of view, who I always felt was a touch jealous of Nessa, because Elphaba was so devoted to her, which I think is the focal point of their relationship.

Elphaba, Third Thropp Descending of Munchkinland. Or Elphie, as Galinda knows her.

Green as a gooseberry, but in a fresh, attractive way. Curious, mean Elphaba, with her hair and her skin and her oddness that feels so utterly comforting, like coming home tired. Galinda had never encountered anyone quite like her, and wasn't likely to find any individual similar. No one could hold a candle to her Elphie.

Galinda had become irrationally, completely jealous of Boq and Nessa, Boq because he had known Elphie as a child, and Nessa because she lived with the green woman, and took up most of her time. Nessa was her 'pretty', while Galinda was simply her 'sweet'. It made her feel special of course, but only as a second option. Elphaba seemed saddled with her little sister, caring for her, ensuring she was happy and comfortable and rested, while Galinda watched on, seething with barely contained envy. Sitting on an ornate bench, sulking into her silks. Pouting amongst peonies and roses. Staring at Elphaba's narrow back, Galinda longed to stroke it, feel the satin of Elphie's skin.

"Galinda? My sweet, you haven't fallen asleep on me, have you?" A green hand waved barely an inch from the petite blonde's visage, breaking her train of jealous thoughts.

"Hm? Oh, yes, yes, of course. I'm just fine." Blushing her embarrassment as Elphaba smiled in relief at her, she attempted a happy grimace back. Elphaba's smile dropped a degree.

"Is something the matter, Galinda?" she questioned awkwardly, not sure if her concern was unfounded. The little blonde was so rarely unhappy, it panicked Elphaba when her sunshine wasn't smiling.

"No, no, Elphie! I'm happy as a lark, I promise you." A proper smile worked it's way onto her features, which evidently calmed the verdant woman, since she grinned back, and turned to face Nessa once more.

Galinda let her face fall. She was losing Elphie,  _her_  Elphie to Nessa, and it unsettled her greatly. The socialite wanted Elphaba back, all for herself, only for her own use. The closeness forged between them had evaporated since Nessa's arrival, and Galinda hated seeing it dissipate so easily. They seemed not to talk and divulge as much, and their only time together was in the evenings, whilst alone in their shared dorm. Nessa interrupted all of their unions and plans. But oh, how Galinda treasured those moments of intense tranquility. An evening of simply talk, chatter about lectures or religion, anything. As long as it wasn't fashion. Elphie knew a lot of things, but fashion, or 'the art of dress' as Galinda dubbed it affectionately, was not one of her many fortes.

The little blonde seemed eternally cursed to watch Elphaba fuss over someone else, watch her pay the kind of attention Galinda yearned for so desperately. It was utterly heartbreaking, to be so close to a loved one, and said loved one so utterly oblivious to her advances. It hurt, quite simply, and Galinda was sure her feelings wouldn't be returned readily.

Maybe Elphie had it in her to love. She loved Nessa, didn't she? Devotion and love are the same, aren't they?


	3. Elphaboq

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today, we have Elphaboq! This was rather difficult, since Boq is so fixed on G(a)linda, and doesn't really see Elphaba as anything but a dear friend. But her knew her when she was younger, so he has some insight into what makes her tick

Elphaba was the fresh colour of grass, fecund and sweet-smelling. She looked like a rich green field, with ivy-leaf coloured shadowy areas under her chin and in the crooks of her elbows. Her skin was like a divine artist had pencilled in all the colours of Nature upon her, shading her with every variety of leaf-colour there was to be had.

Her warm brown eyes were like overturned earth, ready for sowing seeds. Flecked with mica and other precious ores, holding the secret to forging metal tools to tame the land.

Elphaba's spirit was like a tornado, destructive and fiery and passionate. Boq only hoped he'd never be on the receiving end of her blazing, burning anger. But she was part of the land, interwoven in the weather and ground.

Boq had always dreamed of living and working on the land. Being Munchkin, he grew up around it, and had never found anything more beautiful than Nature in all of her nurturing glory. The dream of owning a little farmhouse, like a block of white cheese in the landscape, had grown with him, adding details as he matured.

A wife. Children. A playhouse. An apple tree. An entire, heaving orchard.

Since meeting her again at Shiz, the Munchkin had placed Elphaba into his future wife's role in this fantasy of his. He imagined her collecting blackberries straight from the sharp bushes, the rich Claret of the fruit staining her fingertips. Cooking up hearty meals in their red-tiled kitchen. Kissing their apple-cheeked children goodbye and sending off to school.

Now, Boq was fully and clearly aware that this was not the life Elphaba would imagine for herself. It was a prepostorous concept to her, a  _husband_  and  _children_  on a  _farm_.

But the heart wants what the heart wants, and Boq's heart desired a steady, homey life of the agricultural kind. With Elphaba.

Considering, Boq remembered the way Elphaba cared for her younger sister, Nessarose. She was so devoted to her, so maternal and gentle, thinking of every want before it could be voiced. Thinking on that, it wasn't difficult to imagine Elphaba looking after a child. It would be the safest infant in Oz, under her watchful, careful protection.

Boq only wanted to see that devotion directed at him, and possibly their future children. He wished for a safe, warm family of his own, just like his ancestors had been doing for centuries gone by.

He fondly remembered her quirky younger self, swaying and uncertain. When they played tag, she would sprint for Boq first, knowing he was not the fastest of runners. She, however could run for miles, with her long, skinny legs. And when they'd play house, Elphaba would stay silent when the roles were being divvied up.  _No_ , she didn't want to be Mummy, nor Daddy, or even Baby. She might settle for Pet, and would bark and woof and growl at all of the children, baring her sharp, funny teeth. Prone to biting, Elphaba's dog was.

She had never bitten Boq though. He surmised it was because she never saw him as a threat. But he couldn't help feeling that maybe - just maybe - Elphaba had some feelings other than friendship for him.

Since meeting her once again at University, he saw how she had grown and matured. Much taller than him. But then, even Galinda was taller than him. But his main concern wasn't the way she looked, he was used to that. It was how she had changed as a person. She was sour and curt, didn't like to socialise (although she never had in the first place) and was a little rude sometimes. All of the time. Permanently.

But she had many good qualities too. She cherished her unexpected friendship with Galinda, and cared for her sister. She was astonishingly intelligent, but never insulted anyone about their own IQ. Bar Avaric. But he deserved it, saying such horrible things about her skin.

Altogether, Boq wanted her company. She could be humorous and witty, and was generally kind.

So what was stopping him?

 


	4. Elpharic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the last installment of Under Your Spell. Thank you again, and enjoy some Elpharic!

Avaric had never commited to any one thing, and he didn't suppose he ever would. Many would agree with him, some more strongly than others. He was careless and artless, rude yet urbane, devilishly handsome and a pig.

But he had himself a little fascination with the third heir apparent of the Charmed Circle, as repulsively green as she was. Yet there was a curious attraction to her too, a draw that slowly pulled you in, even if she was telling you in no uncertain terms to leave her alone. She didn't shy away from debate, and wouldn't take bullying or teasing lying down. That was what made her really interesting; she would verbally spar with anyone. Although Avaric wouldn't put physical sparring past her.

Yes, Avaric had a little crush on Elphaba, Third Thropp Descending of Munchkinland.

Of course, he hadn't meant for it to happen. But she was so passionate when he was so passionless. She had values and ideas, while he had his looks and a wealthy father. He supposed she could be rich, if her father wasn't so religious, like her irritatingly pious sister, Nessarose.

There was a girl who could be beautiful and charming if she wasn't so damned devoted to her faith. Church was her favourite place, and despite her lack of arms, Avaric could tolerate her. On a good day. When she was quiet, and didn't rant about the Unnamed God and damnation and evil.

Elphaba had no such religious zeal, but she indulged her sister when she could. Avaric had never understood those two, those broken sisters. One green, one armless.

She was a challenger, and wouldn't stand for Avaric badmouthing anyone, despite their connection to her. Like when Fiyero had first arrived, and Avaric had made a  _completely harmless_  comment on the funny shade of skin he possessed, and Elphaba had jumped right in and called his opinion - and he quoted - 'shitty'.

Elphaba was a firebrand, no doubt about it.

She was probably fantastically fiery in bed, and it gave Avaric a lot of self-important pleasure to imagine her writhing under him in ecstasy. Her body wasn't bad, if a little too skinny for his tastes. Her skin wasn't as repulsive as he made out. It was actually rather entrancing, especially whenever she moved. But when she was still, there was still a fluidity and moving quality to her body, as if she was restless.

Her face also was manageable, in regards to beauty. Not pretty, like Galinda (now there was a lady, if ever Avaric had seen one), but curious. Elphaba's brand of beauty lay in her eyes and lips. The colour of her eyes was a deep, coffee brown, rich and mature, while her thin, pretty lips were very dark against her skin, almost black in hue. Her tongue was almost as dark, Avaric had noticed, although there was the tell-tale hint of redness in her gums and the muscle.

Avaric put a stop to that train of thought, knowing it would barrel towards a wildly unrealistic scene of passion, starring him and Elphaba.

He couldn't seem to desist in his attention to her. Despite the many, varied other girls who were perfectly happy to entertain him, and who had perfectly normal features.

But Avaric didn't seem to want  _normal_.

He wanted, desired, wished for, yearned for, a peculiar, fiery green woman.

Doomed. Avarirc was irrevocably doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Avaric was quite infuriating to write, as fun as it was. He's so rude and inconsiderate. I had to keep referring back to himself (since it is his thoughts) because of his self-importance. Well, I only hope it was successful. Leave some feedback please!

**Author's Note:**

> Leave some feedback, if you please!


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